


Presence

by whatstheproblembaby



Category: Wonder Woman (2017)
Genre: F/M, Fix-it fic, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-14
Updated: 2017-08-14
Packaged: 2018-12-15 03:19:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11797326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatstheproblembaby/pseuds/whatstheproblembaby
Summary: Diana is accustomed to seeing Steve's ghost.





	Presence

Diana is accustomed to seeing Steve’s ghost.

It’s almost comforting, at the best of times. Like they got to go home and get married and make babies, as he had described to her all those years ago. She even smiles when she imagines his reactions to 1970s fashion and 1990s punk music, two trends that both surprised and delighted her.

At the worst of times, it feels like more of a blow than Ares was ever able to land on her.

Still, she’s used to Steve being a constant presence in her life, visible out of the corners of her eyes, faintly audible as she hears snatches of conversations in crowds. When she sees him enter a gallery with a tour group one day as she’s helping to set up an exhibit, she doesn’t even flinch.

“Strange that he’s actually bothering to enter, though,” she murmurs, so quietly that even Simon, her fellow curator, can’t hear her. “He’s usually just...here.”

The fraction of her brain that still believes in the gods and their benevolence wakes up at this realization, wanting to hope that maybe after all this time-

“No,” she tells herself firmly. “Steve is dead. He couldn’t have survived that explosion, and even if he had, it’s been a century. Don’t be foolish, Diana.”

She focuses on the arrangement of the exhibit, a display of Greek and Roman antiquities featuring artifacts that would have been commonly used by women. Between an intern nearly dropping a priceless urn and Simon’s calls to move things three centimeters to the left and then back again because he thinks the displays are off-center, she has her hands full, and she manages to forget about the apparition that is absolutely not Steve until the tour group starts moving to the next gallery. As he turns to his right to leave the room, she turns to her left to take a step back and gain a new perspective on the exhibit, and her eyes lock onto his.

He pales, stumbling. She freezes.

Steve has never faltered in her hallucinations. He’s never had cause to, since he’s always been as aware of her as she is of him.

“D-Diana?”

His voice is dry and rough with disuse. Diana can’t stop the tears that spring to her eyes.

“Steve?”

“Diana. Diana!” His eyes widen, looking bluer than she’d remembered, and that’s it, really.

She’d never been able to resist those eyes.

Diana flings herself at him, barely able to check her own strength so they don’t go sailing through one of the walls of the museum. She holds on tightly for a moment before dragging him off to her office, where they can have privacy. Her colleagues are making confused noises behind them, but she doesn’t care - _can’t_ care, when Steve is somehow alive and in her arms. She’ll devise some story for them later.

“I remember,” Steve says once they’re alone, holding her so close she half expects for them to meld into one. “I didn’t - I had flashes before, but I _remember_. Diana-”

“How?” she asks, cutting him off. “You _died_ , Steve, I was there-”

“I did,” he says, cupping her face with his hand and stroking her cheek. “I can’t - I can’t quite remember where I went afterward. It’s already fading. But I remember they said that my story wasn’t supposed to end when it did. That I’d make my way back to you. After that, all I remember is waking up outside the Louvre and feeling compelled to go inside.”

“It’s been almost a hundred years,” Diana whispers, voice breaking. “I thought I’d never see you again, not unless I sacrificed myself like Clark did-”

“Hey, I learned a thing or two from you,” Steve says, wiping away the lone tear that’s fallen down her face. “I don’t think anyone will ever be as stubborn as you are, but I wasn’t going to go without a fight. I get the feeling I was a thorn in the afterlife’s side.”

“Of course you were,” Diana says with a laugh. “A liar, murderer, and smuggler like you? I would expect nothing less.”

She leans up and finally, _finally_ kisses him at that, feeling something in her chest expand with dizzy, mindboggling happiness.

“So it’s been a century?” Steve asks when they break apart long minutes later. “I must have a lot to catch up on.”

“Fortunately, you have me to bring you up to speed.”

“I was really hoping you’d say that,” Steve says, kissing her again.

Diana can’t imagine ever being able to stop kissing him long enough to actually teach.


End file.
